


Five Times the Doctor Didn't Get the Master's John Green References (And One Time He Made One of His Own)

by rhysgore



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), The Fault in Our Stars - John Green
Genre: (sort of), 5+1 Things, Canonical Character Death, Crack, John Green - Freeform, M/M, Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master stared at him. </p><p>“My thoughts are stars that I cannot fathom into the Traken Union,” he said.</p><p>“What?” the Doctor said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times the Doctor Didn't Get the Master's John Green References (And One Time He Made One of His Own)

**Author's Note:**

> this was written from the period of time of 12:30 at night to 1:15 in the morning, so it is simultaneously rushed and a result of sleep deprivation. also i don't actually like john green (sorry) but i do find the jokes made from his works to be very amusing SO
> 
> mostly the fault of tumblr user [acitymadeofsong](acitymadeofsong.tumblr.com), who came up with the +1 bit (thank you very much for that. curse you for compelling me to write this).

After they had input all the calculations into the Pharos Project Radio Tower, the system had needed a few minutes to calibrate, and the Doctor used that time to really let the Master have it.

 

“You are the single most irresponsible, slimy, untrustworthy person I have EVER had the misfortune of meeting. I met DAVROS, and I would trust him with power more than I trust you with. You want to rule GALAXIES?? You had control of one planet for less than FIVE MINUTES and you destroyed a third of the universe! How did you even MANAGE that??” Throughout his rant, the Doctor kept shaking the Master by the shoulders, hoping that with enough effort, he’d shake some sense into the other man.

 

 ****The Master stared at him.

 

“My thoughts are stars that I cannot fathom into the Traken Union,” he said.

“What?” the Doctor said.

*

Between the regeneration-induced trauma and the Master’s strange health drink concoctions, the Doctor only had a few moments of lucidity at Castrovalva. However, after he had safely gotten away from the crazy Escher-esque maze, he distinctly remember waking up in the middle of the night to find the Master at his bedside.

The Master had softly brushed his hair back from his forehead, a slightly over-familiar but nonetheless comforting gesture, and the Doctor felt surprisingly calm for being in the lair of the person who had caused his death not two days ago.

“I fell in love the way you fell off the radio tower,” the Master whispered. “Slowly, then all at once.”

The Doctor had wished that he’d had the strength to respond to that.

*

While they were exchanging TARDIS parts, the Master decided to ask a question which had been bothering him from the moment he’d seen the Doctor and his friends land in prehistoric Heathrow.

“Where’s the little one with the bad haircut run off to? Did you have to leave another one behind?” The Doctor stilled.

“You mean Adric?” he asked, voice a little too tight, cheer a little too forced. “Did I leave Adric behind? No.. no, I-.. I…” His shoulders shook, and the Master heard the sounds made by people desperately trying, and failing, to hold in dry sobs. “He’s dead. Cybermen.”

The Master placed a comforting hand on the Doctor’s trembling back.

“The marks Cybermen leave are too often scars,” he said.

Through his tears, the Doctor looked at him, confused.

“What??” he said.

*

The Master looked at the Doctor, who stared back at him with his mouth agape. There was silence between the two for a minute, which the Doctor finally felt obligated to break.

“You would think I’d know by now not to ask this question of you and expect a reasonable and/or sensible answer, but what in Omega’s name are you doing?”

The Master stared at him calmly for another few seconds, before taking the TCE out of his mouth.

“It’s a metaphor,” he explained. “You see, you put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.”

He put the TCE back in his mouth, bulbed end first.

“What?!” the Doctor said.

*

After the incident in the Death Zone, the Doctor decided to wash his coat. It had gotten plenty beaten up, and it was about time it smelled like fresh laundry again. As he was emptying his pockets, he came across a piece of paper with a crude drawing on it that he’d never seen in his life.

 

The Doctor was too busy wondering when exactly the Master had managed to slip it into his pocket to wonder what in the hell he meant this time.

*

When he had burned, it’d hurt enough for two.

The Doctor didn’t regret his decision, for the most part. He didn’t sacrifice planets to rescue the people who had doomed them in the first place. Even for him, that was a bad moral code.

He did miss the Master, though, more than he’d admit to anyone, even himself. Even though Omega knows it was nigh impossible to kill the man, and the Master would probably be back to exact his revenge soon enough, the Doctor still missed him.

The Doctor rolled over in his bed, curling up smaller.

“Maybe ‘won’t you show mercy to your own- AAAAAAAAAAGH’ can be our ‘always’,” he whispered, gathering his blankets around himself tighter, before falling into a deep, surprisingly peaceful sleep.

 ****  
  



End file.
